The New Order
by kingeditor
Summary: "Our life for our liberation!" chant the rebels as they brave the New Order. After a brief, yet incredibly bloody revolution, Yokai are now the dominant species. Led by a human who has given his body and soul to monster kind, and oppression his former brethren as if he were a god, the Empire of Free Yokai has subjugated most of mankind. Their only hope, is to "unite, or die." AU
1. Prologue: Jabberwocky

**AN: I do not own Rosario+Vampire. If I did, I'd make this canon, and have myself appear in the anime. Also, there are OC characters. However, no main character is the narrator. His/Her identity I shall reveal eventually. This is my first Fanfic too, so please give helpful reviews!  
**

'Twas_ brillig and the slithy toves_  
_Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;_  
_All mimsy were the borogroves,_  
_And the mome raths outgrabe_

The forest was beset with an unusual, yet almost invisible gloom at around 4 p.m. This gloom seemed to spring from the badger-like... no lizard-like... actually more corkscrew-like creatures- er... well, lets just say that they were creatures that you could only see had you just gulped down two or three quarts of Jack Daniels (most of the people that wandered into these woods were either drunkards or children making fun of said drunkards).

They only had the brain capacity to wander in circles, making an onlooker feel bad for them, but then to be reminded that they tasted good dipped in Barbecue sauce. So as these slithy toves (as some alcoholics fond of portmanteaus call them) do not inspire sadness in man, what is gloomy about this woodland?

Another likely cause to the trees' downtrodden demeanor could have been the miserable looking birds that walked purposelessly throughout the woods. They walked because they were ashamed of their form: skinny and shabby legs holding up a feathery body the size of a football, looking very much like a mop. However in the third person, or at least not in their person, they cannot be the cause of the gloom as they are undeniably comical looking.

The only other gloomy thing about this scene that could be discerned by the naked eye were the green-yes green pigs that populated the forest. They looked either homeless or hopelessly lost, as they never frequented a dwelling, but their wild kind knew no home, and they were quite content in their exposed, vulnerable state.

So what was the cause of the woodland's depression? Everything must have a cause. As Paine reasons "man cannot imagine anything having created (caused) itself." I only exist because of my parents, my parents only because of my grandparents, and them only because of my great-grandparents. Therefore, there is an item I have not addressed above, and that item being that there was no gloom. Nor joy, rage, or even terror. It was just a boring collection of willows.

I have begun my story here because to one young man, it was gloomy. Being a sympathizer with Paine's logic, he deduced that there was an imaginary cause to the imaginary gloom he saw. That cause was a monster.

It seems preposterous that this young man would jump to such a conclusion, but he was only human. Humans, although "intelligent," use only 10% of their full brain capacity. This 10% is the worst tenth, being filled with jealousies, vanities, false conceptions, and superstitions.

This young man was under no scrutiny from his neighbors, as they all to shared in his fear. He did not invent the monster, nor did anyone else in the village. If anything, the forest did, but unintentionally. In fact, his own father was a respected witness of the creature, and often informed others, including his son, as to its menacing characteristics, and bade them to stay away from the forest.

The son however, was even less wise than his father, because he felt he could find it, fight it, and behead it, saving the story of his brutishness with his children, and his children's children, and so on for all his lineage.

So one night, while the rest of his neighbors were sound asleep, he snook out of his home through a broken windowpane, then tiptoed towards the tool shed. Once inside, he took his father's sword, and gazed at it in awe.

It was no ordinary piece of steel jabbed into a wooden cross, no, it was a magic blade, a vorpal sword. The sword was of such awesomeness that part of his decision to slay the imaginary beast in the woods was because of it. When its user willed it, a ring of fire materialized around the sword, whirling round and round the steel whilst enlightening it and the surrounding area. Many battles had been won by his father with ought even swinging his enchanted weapon, merely by setting it alight within view of his opponent.  
After setting it aflame once, twice, thrice, and ultimately more times than was practical for stealth, he sheathed it. Then, feeling that he was likely not to return, stole one last final glance at his home and dormant family. If there is anything redeeming in this story, it is that, for even in his foolishness, this young man had a heart.

Thus, he set out on his comical quest, and after an hour or so of walking (the forest was rather far from his village, as it would be prudent not to put up one's home too close to a monster) began to tire. He had only had a little bit of sleep, and the terrain he crossed in walking to the forest was rocky and uneven. So he rested by a rather boring tree, and while resting thought about what he was doing, out in that woodland, far from home.

He began to think about his father, and wondered as to the actual credibility of his stories. After all, he claimed never to actually have seen the "Jabberwock(the name the villagers had given to their monster, as this narrator is long overdue in telling), merely to have heard noises or "evidence" of the creature. After pondering this peculiarity for some time, he began to laugh, to laugh about the whole thing. He even decided to go home for some much needed sleep.

However, as he was getting up to sleep, he heard something. A sort of deep, puffing noise. This deep, puffing noise seemed to draw closer and closer, and delayed our "hero's" plans to return home. As the sound drew particularly present, he felt as if he were being pushed by gusts of wind. He eventually discerned that the noise was coming from a northeasterly direction, and as he glanced that way, he fell back.

Now, I have lied to you about one thing, and have told the truth about another. There was no monster in the woods, that I said was true, but I have lied in saying that there was no creature. Fore as the boy fell back in awe and fear, his eyes fell upon the Jabberwock.

The creature was not human, as you may have expected when I said it was not a monster. I meant that it was an intelligent, peaceful being, that unfortunately looked scary beyond belief. This is the case for most of the creatures that humans call monsters. Not that their aren't a few stinkers out there, but even those can be exaggerated.

The Jabberwock, as that is the only name it is known by, and unfortunately the only one I can use, was 5 feet tall, 15 feet long, and weighed a good ton (give or take a few hundred pounds). Across this massive body were hundreds of dark grey scales, giving it good camouflage in the fogs that frequented its forest. This figure reached out into a muscular, 4 1/2 foot neck that supported a menacing, pointed head. Perhaps the most frightening of all its features could be found here: its pair of glowing, crackling, blood red eyes.

Our boy here did not know what I have informed you just two paragraphs past, and assumed it was to blame for all of the burned villages, uprooted trees, bad omens, broken hearts, and all of the other woes of this world. So he did what any other foolish boy would have done: he drew his vorpal sword, and without even thinking lunged at the beast, who meant only curiosity in his being there.

The blade snapped and screeched in the air, signaling the first blow against the creature having met its mark in horrendous violence. It was a crude blow, yet an effective one, for the poor creature was knocked back by the blow's sheer force. The boy grew emboldened by this early victory over his foe, and even regained enough of his senses to remember a lesson in sword fighting his father had taught him at a much younger age to humor him. His legs positioned themselves into a fighting stance, and he gripped the sword hilt properly.

While the Jabberwock was still dazed and confused, having not understood why he was attacked, the boy lunged at him again, this time doing even more damage. Then following up to his attack, swiped at the Jabberwock in the reverse direction.

The poor thing was gravely wounded now, and looked as if it were about to die. He could have left it there to end in peace, but he remembered why he set out so far from home in the first place: to take its head. Raising the sword skyward, he willed it to enlighten, and was now a sight more terrible to behold than his opponent. He aimed not for the body this time, but for its neck, and in a burst of flame, slashed it in half.

The creature was no obviously dead, and the boy felt a cruel sense of triumph. Bending downward, he picked up the severed head, and in a disgusting fashion, raised it to the sky, and laughed like a fiend. He slung it across his back, and tromped with his head held high back to his village.

It was now daybreak, yet still not late enough for anyone to want to wake up, so his sudden arrival through the door was as unexpected as it was frightening. His father jumped out of bed, cursed himself for leaving his sword in the tool shed, and then looked at the door.

There was his son, holding the head of some unknown beast. It took him a while to realize what it was, but then astonishment hit him like a tidal wave.  
"My... son." he said in awe as he walked to him. "Has thou slain the... the... the Jabberwock?!"

The boy simply nodded, and his father quickly embraced him. That night, a feast was held celebrating the boy's triumph, and the creatures head was burned on a stake in the village square. They all thought that there troubles were over, that they could wander through the forest as they pleased now. This was true, but although their troubles were over, it only worsened things for humanity as a whole. For you can't make a right with another wrong, just as you can't end bloodshed with more bloodshed.


	2. Jailhouse Rock

Haruko liked to think that the worst part of his imprisonment was the bathrooms. They were damp, smelly, and often had toilets that could not flush, as well as showers that, in the interest of conserving water, could only remain on for 5 minutes at a time. There were a few leaky pipes in the facility as well, and occasionally even gushed out a continuos stream of sewage. However, the worst things about Satori Sai prison were far more uncomfortable than the rest rooms.

To begin with, the food offered in the cafeteria was sub par. No, "sub par" is to generous a word to describe the unrecognizable kitchen slop that was brought out of the unholy kitchen. It varied in color, but most of the time it was either light red or a sort of khaki. This indicated that it was usually either spoiled, damp meat or rotten, chewed up grain.

The prison staff weren't very friendly either. If you looked at one funny, they'd aggressively tell you to "f**k off, meat bag!" If they were in a good mood, which was hardly ever the case, as they enjoyed the prison no more than Hitomi or any of the inmates did. When they were in a bad mood, they'd usually grab you in a chokehold and throw you against the wall. If you fought back, they'd break one of your limbs. If not two if you hit them particularly hard.

Yet undoubtedly the worst part of all was infinitely more terrifying than all of the above discomforts. The "reeducation." The screaming and crying that Hitomi heard every month sent chills down his spine and into his nightmares. At the end of every month, one of the unlucky inmates was dragged by whatever body parts the guards could get ahold of that weren't flailing around to the Satori Sai room, which mean "re enlightenment." It was located 15 yards off the water, and was connected to the prison via a suspension bridge.

Haruko shuddered whenever he imagined what went on in there, although he already had some idea. It was the reason he, like all the other inmates, was sent to Satori Sai. The whole complex was a reeducation facility, designed to brainwash the human peoples conquered by the Empire of Free Yokai into respecting and believing in the principles of "Yokai equality."

Whatever his fellow inmates went through in there, they came out as changed men, ready to die for the Emperor of Truth and Justice in whatever ways were required of them. Usually this meant being sent to a forced labor camp, where they mined for mythril (an incredibly strong metal recently discovered to have magical properties) or smelted it into weapons for the Empire's soldiers. It was also rumored that there was another duty that these slaves could fulfill: sacrifice. Some of the more powerful spells that the witches and wizards of the Empire used required souls, and humans were deemed a worthless enough specimen of life to serve that purpose.

As Haruko thought of all this, he was reminded that he was to suffer the same fate in less than a month, for it was nearing the end of June, and he was receiving constant reminders from all around him. The staff were always unusually friendly around this time, expressing their wishes for the rest of the inmates to receive Satori Sai, and even giving the poor soul whose time was drawing close extra rations of their slop.

Not only that, but the other inmates were being kinder to him as well, offering some sweets that they had snuck in somehow for his "final days." One even offered a cigarette, to which Hitomi refused, and the generous inmate simply smoked it himself.

None of this kindness could make him feel better, however, and Hitomi spent most of his time talking with his friend Chika. Chika was a tall, lanky teen that Haruko had met in his first days of prison. While waiting in line for the usual days slop from the cafeteria, he had stared at the unusual figure of one of the guards for much too long. The guard was in a bad mood that day, and as was the usual custom of disgruntled staff at Satori Sai, lifted poor Hitomi in a chokehold. Haruko was a weak and skinny boy, and could have easily died in a situation like that. Luckily, Chika came to his rescue, giving the guard a firm roundhouse kick to the face (the teen was a fervent martial artist). The guard dropped Haruko, and lunged at Chika. The ensuing fight was broken up by a senior guard, yet Chika was given a stout beating that night anyway as punishment, while the guard got away unscathed.

Haruko thanked Chika for his bravery, and the tow became fast friends. They were united by a shared love of philosophy, which they enjoyed talking about towards the end of every month, when an unlucky inmate was "re enlightened." They were both very intelligent boys, and thought of many ideas as to the nature of Yokai-human relations, a subject chief among their debates.

For those that have been wondering why the narrator has so carelessly spewed out the term "Yokai" without so much as even hinting at its definition, I shall inform you promptly. A Yokai is a monster from traditional Japanese folklore. "If they are from folklore, then why do they matter?" you may matter because all folklore comes from somewhere, whether it be the legend of King Arthur, the Mahabharata, Coyote, Paul Bunyan, and any other example of "fantasy." "After all, they aren't real." you may continue. Well, in this world (the one I am narrating), they are very real, evidenced by the brief civil war that occurred two years ago, in which Yokai were put into power.

The reason Yokai-human relations are so important to Chika and Haruko is because they have often wondered what caused the mass uprising of Japanese monsters. According to the monsters' revolutionary leaders, the Yokai population had long been oppressed and discriminated by humans. "The human scum," as one revolutionary explains. "are so bigoted and biased, that they, not us, have started this rebellion. They have frequently committed many atrocious, vile acts for centuries. Acts which would serve as acts of war between them an any other of their races, and it is mainly due to the fact of us not being members of their spineless, pale, pathetic species that they treat us as mere animals. For what the humans do not understand is that they, and not only all of this world's other inhabitants, are animals as well, and animals of a far more savage nature."

Chika and Haruko, unlike most of humanity, sympathized with the Yokai. They had both seen humanity's attitude to monsters in their lifetime, and often concluded their debates by acknowledging that humans as well as Yokai were "monsters." Haruko had witnessed a drunk driver run over a family of sorcerers, Chika had seen a family of druids flee from deforestation, and they had both heard the insensitive comments made by their fellow inmates towards the Yokai, the sort of comments one would hear against other races.

So it was that Chika and Haruko were discussing life and Yokai, that the alarm rang. It was a sudden, repetitive bleating sound that every schoolboy was familiar with. Yet fires were rare in Satori Sai, and the only other thing that an alarm could mean, according to the safety lectures given out every two months (usually of rather poor oratorical quality, and sometimes forgotten about entirely), was an attack. Hitomi and Chika exchanged instinctive glances.  
"I don't smell smoke." was all Chika said.


	3. The Great Dictator

The Emperor walked with purpose towards the golden double doors at the end of the lavish hallway. His halls were carpeted with jute and walled with rare, polished wood. He was a figure of authority, his rooms deserved such treatment. His clothes were even more astonishing, a robe of fine vicuña wool partially covering a uniform worthy of a generalissimo, adorned with few, yet incredibly ornate medals.

His walk bellowed authority as well, as he had long since abandoned the carefree pace of his youth. His legs moved briskly yet orderly, and often diverted many an annoying question by creating an air of urgency and importance, yet subtlety enough so as not to arouse panic. He was a true commander-in-chief, although he new nothing of battle or strategy, and relied on his advisors and generals when leading the nation.

He was now just in front of the portal, where he saw his second-in-command, Ginei Morioka. Ginei was a reliable man, the Emperor knew this from his experiences with him in the Yokai revolution, yet not a man he would want to make public as he addressed the nation. Although loyal, he was a shameless womanizer, and despite his skirt-chasing antics having waned since his hormone-filled teenager years, where the Emperor first met him, he was still capable of ruining his well-maintained image. Adding to that was the fact that after the failure of a sexual conquest, Ginei took heavily to the bottle.

The Emperor did not need to remind him why he could not step outside with him, as Ginei acknowledged his behavior as well as anyone else, so he simply nodded to him as he saluted to his superior.

"Are you ready to address the Empire, sir?" asked Ginei as he broke the usual rule of speaking-only-when spoken to. Yet the two had grown close through the years, and the Emperor had relaxed his subordinate's vow.

"Ready as I must be." He assured him, and he was not lying. He had made many public speeches throughout the revolution, growing increasingly comfortable and charismatic with each one, and knew just how to draw his audience into revolutionary fervor.

So, like Caesar after defeating Pompey, Moses having reached the peak of Mount Sinai, or Castro after the revolution, this man of the people, stepped outside onto a stage much used before. It was a small place to speak, appearing large due to the long set of stairs climbing to the elevated floor, and it was meant to be. It was meant to be so onlookers would understand that it was for their champion only, and none else.

Confidently approaching the podium, he was greeted by an enormous throng of people, all shouting out an equally enormous cheer. The mass of admirers, reporters, and simple spectators nearly reached the horizon of the Emperor's view. The sight of it all made him sweat a little, but only a little, as he had long since adjusted to the pressures of public speaking.

Just as his head drew close to the microphone he was to speak in, the cheers died out in anticipation. For an undefinable amount of time, perhaps seconds, perhaps minutes, time seemed to stop, replaced with a silence and stillness so loud that it would have drowned out any noise and activity had there been any. Then, raising his head, he spoke.  
"My fellow Yokai," the Emperor began, in the way that most presidents began for the same purpose (although ironically, most of America had been conquered under his empire). His simple introductory was met with even more cheers, as well as chants of his name.

"Tsukune! Tsukune! Tsukune!" they repeated into the air still thin from silence. The sound of it wet his eyes, and nearly brought tears down his cheeks. For all over Japan he had been known as only "the Emperor," in his court he was "his majesty," in the rice fields of China he was Wǒmen de xīn mào, "our new Mao," across the cruel snows of Russia, he was called istinnyy velikiy, "the true great," while the greeks, as they gaze proudly upon their crumbling, yet still splendorous pantheon, thank  
η myrmidon του δύναμη και το δικαίωμα, "the myrmidon of might and right" for their position as the dominant race.

Yet the one title he had not heard ever since his coronation had been his name, "Tsukune." It reminded him of the simpler days of his youth, when he had made good friends in high school. Tsukune had had none of the lavish titles he now possessed, only the good-old fashioned repetition of his name to go by. Yet he cared not, and some of his fondest memories were simply the ones he loved greeting him like an old friend. However, those times were all but past, and Tsukune didn't dwell on it long.

So he continued. "we after 5 years of long, bloody, yet justified war, have found a sweet victory and end to our struggle. For just yesterday, the United States, after months of valiant battle on behalf of our men, have become the last nation to surrender to our united front."

This declaration was followed by cheers of incredible magnitude, far surpassing those previous, even if combined. Only minutes later, news flashes were broadcasted all over the empire announcing the Emperor's proclamation of peace, while not too far behind were the newspapers, with headlines in extra large and bold font.

Tsukune raised his hand for silence, and only seconds later was his gesture fully obeyed. "The United States, as all other nations, has agreed to grant full citizenship rights to their Yokai, as well as allow them at any time to immigrate into our new borders. In addition, as a message of their apologies towards our oppressed brethren, full monetary reparations will be offered to all Yokai families, their courtesy of course."

Applause followed the Emperor's announcement, but he was worry that they would reject his next statements. It was the common sentiment in the empire, as well as the advice of those closest to him, that the nations his empire had been warring against ought to be punished severely for the evils they committed. Yet Tsukune, although you couldn't tell it if you saw him on TV, or in a photograph, or in any other image of him as a leader, was an idealist.

It had alway's been Tsukune's dream that, after the Revolutionary wars had ended, and monsterkind had been liberated, that both could share the planet in peace. He had this dream because he himself had once been human, and it was in a twist of fate and love that he had made him in a monster. So Tsukune was about to announce his intentions to offer a "soft peace" at the negotiating table next week. He intended to give financial aid to the his defeated opponents, as well as guaranteeing no future military action.

So, after thinking about his decision for a few moments, he continued. "Yet it is also my wish, although perhaps not yours..." he stopped to make some mental preparations for the next portion of his oratory, as he had not planned it before hand. "that the United States, as well as all other nations, in respect of their brave, although vain, efforts to..." suddenly, Tsukune stopped.

Something inside of him willed him not to continue. It was not his own will, common sense, nor conscience that led him to abruptly freeze in his magniloquent declamation. It was the will, common sense, and conscience combined of something else. It was like some invisible creature had held back his tongue or clogged his vocal cords, and for the next few minutes, Tsukune's mind was somehow independent from his mind. Like a leading baseball player that had suddenly been benched in the middle of the game, the Emperor could do nothing but watch through his bodies senses (that he could somehow use but not control) as this unknown ball player went up to bat for a second inning (okay, maybe being a bit too heavy on the sports references here).

Now that Tsukune had been temporarily evicted from his body, its new tenant wasted no time taking action. "...destroy us,(like the godless b*st*rds they are) shall be forced to not intervene as we send all of their ignoble scum within our borders into detainment!" This strange twist in direction surprised the crowd, but in a few moments, they sympathized with it, and burst out an uproar of agreement.

Tsukune (the "real" Tsukune) was shocked to hear these words come out of a mouth that had formerly been his to control. He tried to protest, in the language that is not known among waking men, but only in thought, No! If I do this, humans will never forgive us! There can never be peace! Yet it was to late. The Emperor's proclamation had already been sent into the open air, and echoing sound waves cannot be returned.

However, this was not even the worst to happen. For after Tsukune's conscience had"shouted" his protest, he felt a change in his already perturbed mentality. Slowly, yet frighteningly steadily, his dismay over his "actions" mysteriously creeped away, until his previous demurral became meaningless to him. In fact, moments after this, his memory of the strange occurrence started slipping away as well. He forgot all about his sudden isolation from his bodily processes, as well as the strange entity that had forced it.

Then, he simply resettled into his body, remembering everything: Ginei Morioka, the speech, and his agreement with it, except his conscience and its isolation. In the end, it had felt like a perfectly normal 10 minutes or so of his life.

After the final applause died down, Tsukune stepped down from the stage by way of the right flight of stairs, and into the mob of press that had been waiting until the end of his speech with questions. He answered them all comfortably, and assuredly, unaware of the laughter echoing deep within his mind.


	4. Free as a Bird

Hitomi immediately picked up on what Chika was implying: Satori Sai was under attack. "Well then," asked Hitomi as he regained his composure. "If we are under attack, then by whom?" It was a rhetorical question of course, so he was quite surprised when Chika provided an answer.

"Freedom Fighters." He said, quite calmly. "Either that or this is just a drill, but you can guess which one I'm hoping for."

Hitomi was even more nonplussed after his comrade-in-chains had said the words "Freedom Fighters." "You mean... there are actually rebels?"

"Why of course," replied Chika, standing up. "How could there not be?" Chika's simple logic reminded him of 1984, in which no matter how hard Big Brother oppressed his "siblings," there would always be a brotherhood, a spirit of resistance.

"I suppose that makes sense," Hitomi said as he stood up. "and I don't think there have ever been drills here at all. So the question is, can they make it through the walls?"

"What makes you think I'd want to sit here and wait for them." Chika grabbed Hitomi's wrist. "Come on!"

Before Hitomi could muster the strength to resist, or the rhetoric to argue back, Chika was already dragging him out of their cell through the now open door. Once in the hall, Chika turned left towards the stairs leading up to the next level of the prison. Dragging Hitomi up the stairs would be difficult, so Chika took a gamble, betting on having truly known his friend, and released his arm. They paused for a moment on the stairs, Hitomi looking up into his friend's eyes, where he could almost see Chika's hope in corporeal form.

"What if we don't make it?" Hitomi asked feebly, even though he knew it was a perfectly good question.

Rather than giving a response, Chika merely gazed silently and understandingly into his eyes. If looks could kill, Hitomi would be a very safe boy, for all his expression said was If we don't make it, then we'll die as if we had: free as birds.

Hitomi smiled at him, and a small tear slid down his left cheek. The wet line it left behind could soon be a scar from a knife or bullet, but this did not perturb him even slightly.

Only seconds after this silent intercourse of ideas, their feet were moving rapidly up the stairs. Upon reaching the top, they ran down the hallway to the left, with only faint memory to guide them as they careened to enter new hallways, past open doors that almost beckoned them on. Along their way, they also saw that they were not the only ones making Chika's bet, as dozens of inmates could be seen moving with the same purpose as them.

They exchanged glances and sometimes even smiles as they passed each other, sometimes through the same halls, sometimes unconfidently splitting apart into different paths. By the end of the escape, less than half of the inmates would make it out of the prison, yet even the ones that died would to know freedom's embrace.

After at least five minutes of rapid wandering, Hitomi abruptly stopped. Chika noticed the sound of his comrade's feet dying out, and stopped as well to check on him.

"Why'd you stop?" Chika questioned him, although not angrily, as he knew his friend would only stop out of caution, not cowardice.

"Because I just realized something! Something very odd about this escape." Hitomi paused for a moment to double check his planned dispersal of information. "Where are all the guards?!"

Chika froze. He had thought of this as they were running, but had been afraid to dwell on it too much lest it frighten them into returning to their cells. Yet, in surprising, almost theatrical manner, they began to hear the faint ringings and yelling of what sounded like a firefight.

Chika shrugged as he gave his hypothesis, "Fighting the freedom fighters?"

"If you're right in saying that what we're hearing is the sound of our liberator's bullets being sent into the air, shouldn't we follow it to find the freedom fighters?"

"That's a good idea." commented Chika. "Unless those bullets hit us!"

"Knowing you, I didn't think the idea of that would stop you from going anyway."

"Then you know me well, but what about you?"

Hitomi smiled in similar fashion as he had before. "Well, being a dead man is better than being a mind slave at the end of imprisonment at Satori Sai."  
Chika didn't even have to waste time with a reply, they just ran to the gunfire that might merely mark their doom. The way there was still ambiguous, yet clearer than before, and a flush of inmates heading towards the rising sound of the firefight were traveling along in more of the same paths than before.

So it wasn't long before the duo, now with an entourage of six inmates, had made it to the arrival center for new inmates, that is, the dock and helipads on the northern part of Satori Sai. There, they were greeted by one of the most terrifying, yet awe-inspiring scene in their entire lives.

In the center of their field of vision were the docks, occupied entirely by the intense firefight they had suspected was taking place. Almost all of the prison guards were on the edge of the dock, trying to hold off battalions of freedom fighters climbing up the dock's stairs. While the freedom fighters, (all humans to the inmates' pleasant surprise) were attacking with an assortment of firearms, the yokai guards were using their own monster bodies as weapons, retaliating with sharp claws, venomous spit, and deep, stentorian roars.

Yet not even this awesome display of monster and human power was the end of their fright. For, as a freedom fighter battalion was slowly losing ground, some of the helicopters were sent from their dominance of the skies to provide air support to their desperate brothers-in-arms.

Finally, to provide a cherry on top of an already overly epic spectacle, a battleship, cleverly concealed by the intense fog and storm clouds in the distance, fired an immense shell at one of the monster-controlled landing bays.

The resulting caused all of the inmates to cover their ears, yet even that could not distract them from the rest of the battle. Hitomi was still gazing dumbly at the scene when Chika grabbed his wrist like he had before and dragged Hitomi down the steps and onto the platform below. His example put the other men out of their stupor, and they followed as soon as they saw the duo making their way to the helipads, where a helicopter had landed to pick up inmates.

The inmates began running to their flying, metal salvation, and were almost a few feet away when the battle turned out of their favor.

Across the helipad, one one of the docks, a battalion had not gained air support quick enough, and was presently being slaughtered by a mob of guards. One of the more intelligent ones, the warden, shouted at his yokai to split apart, with one half staying on the dock to kill the rest of the freedom fighters, and the other to make their way to the helipads. Once there, they could easily kill off the inmates currently escaping, and prevent anymore from doing the same.

The pilot of the helicopter saw this, and shouted and motioned for the inmates to get on the helicopter. They wasted no time in doing this, but the yokai were faster, and as the last inmate boarded the craft, the helicopter was under attack from below. Although it was already in the air, yokai were still able to claw at it from below, and even pull it down. Soon, they were reaching into the passenger compartment, and grabbing the legs of inmates. Two soldiers on board provided some resistance, but it was no use.

A black haired man was pulled down from the helicopter, resulting in a bulkier prisoner shout his name "Koharu!", and the rest of the inmates were being pulled down as well. Hitomi managed to kick back a scrawnier guard trying to bring him down, and then continued to get behind Chika and pull him back. This battle of resisting forces lasted for ten minutes, during which the other half of guards from the docks joined in, before a resounding roar erupted from one of the guards, and a quick glance showed Hitomi that it was at a battalion of freedom fighters, who, after beating back the yokai on the left dock, were taking the ones on the helipad by surprise.

An exclamation of joy came from the surviving inmates, now believing that they could all escape unharmed. Such would almost be the case, if not for an unfortunately courageous and bulky guard making one last effort at their lost cause. This effort took the form of pulling down Chika. Hitomi resisted with all of his remaining strength, but even if he had still had all of his energy left, it would have been to no avail.

After Chika fell out of the craft, he was crushed against the guard's chest against both his arms. "Chika!" shouted Hitomi in a rather stereotypical, but no less emotional way. The pilot of the helicopter had been trained very well, and he knew that, as the Vulcans in Star Trek say"The needs of the few outweigh the needs of the many." Any attempt to go back for him would be futile and only result in more escapees being pulled won, despite support from the battalion. So he did what few would have done in his position: he flew the helicopter away.

Hitomi protested and screamed at the pilot, but there was no way, as the helicopter flew over the ramparts, the rockets' red glare, the bombs bursting in air, and the flag of the Free Yokai Empire gallantly streaming, that Chika could be saved. Hitomi hated the pilot for what he did, but eventually grew to forgive him when there came a time when decisions like the ones the pilot made were his duty to make as well.


End file.
